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The man grinds his pelvis into me, pushing in as deep as possible. The warmth from his breath against the side of my neck causes me to shiver.
“You did amazing tonight, Mickie. You are the best prey any wolf could ask for. Such a good little Bambi,” he whispers into my sweat-soaked hair.
Did he call me Mickie?
Fuck, Michaella. Open your fucking eyes, and see who is dicking you down. But I just can’t. They’re so heavy now.
“I’m going to fill your needy pussy, then drop you off on your front porch while my cum is still running down your legs,” he grunts. The rhythm of his hips rocking back and forth lulls me into a peaceful serenity, and everything fades to oblivion.
epilogue
Oh, comeon!
The obtrusive sound of barking dogs wakes me, but my eyes are leaden, opening them seems too burdensome. I groggily stretch my extremities, and as they rub against soft cotton sheets, something claws at the deep recesses of my mind. I’m in a freaking bed. There's a familiar scent of vanilla and jasmine on the pillow.
I skyrocket into a sitting position. The sudden movement causes a slight moment of discombobulation. I'm in my bed. Alone. I rub my eyes and scan my surroundings, relief wrapping its hands around me like a long lost friend. I've never been happier to see the four shabby walls that construct my bedroom. My head continues to throb from getting up so fast, and the more I move, the more I ache. There isn’t an inch of my body that doesn’t feel like it hasn't been run over multiple times by a semi-truck.
I lean over to grab my phone from its normal place on my nightstand, but it’s not there.
Duh, Mickie!
At some point last night, I lost it. I don’t know if I dropped it during the chase or if the man took it, but now I have to addGoing to the store to get a new phoneto my endless To-Do list. I carefully lay my head back on my pillow and blink at the ceiling, trying to reconstruct my night. It seems like it was a dream, or a nightmare. But regardless, it doesn’t seem real.
The last thing I remember was the masked man saying my name while he was fucking me. I never disclosed any personal information with Wolf through the app. Whoever took me couldn’t have been him.
So who the hell was it?
And how did they know my name? Or where I lived?
My head is starting to hurt the more I think, and now all I want to do is go back to sleep.
Ugh, I wish. As if I’d be able to go back to sleep.
I turn my head slightly to the left to glance at the alarm clock on my nightstand. It's six am, and I don’t have to pick up the kids for several hours. Maybe I’ll take a hot shower to relieve some of this soreness in my muscles. With every fiber of energy I can muster, I sluggishly get out of bed and walk to my dresser.
“Alexa, playNeeded Meby Rihanna,” I say, grabbing a long maxi dress from my closet before I lay it on my bed. I’m going commando in this bitch. After what my pussy went through last night, there’s no way in hell I’m putting panties on.
Once the serenity of Rihanna's voice reaches my ears, it lulls me into a calm state and somewhat clear mind, I drag my feet to the bathroom. While I’m turning on the hot water, something occurs to me.
Whoever brought me home had free reign of my house.
Leaving the water running, I stride back to my bedroom. My clothes are haphazardly thrown all over the place like I usually have them. Nothing looks…off.
Uh. What. The. fuck.
On the nightstand, opposite where I sleep is Tillie's stuffed white dog. Next to it is a black box with a teal ribbon. I don't know what's more shocking. The fact the toy looks fluffy and brand new, or that my abductor left me such a beautiful looking present.
Don’t be naive.The man is a fucking psycho. For all you know, inside the box is a flash drive with video evidence of the debauchery from last night. Perhaps its nice wrapping is a bit of a Trojan horse.It’s just to fool you.
Who knows what he’s capable of.
Steam is billowing from the bathroom, calling to my aching bones. I need this shower. I need to relax.
I will worry about the ominous box when I'm done.
As I pass by my vanity mirror, I can’t help but stare at the wreckage that is my body.
My face is clear of any damage, but from the neck down looks like I ran through a barbed wire fence. There are cuts of various sizes from god knows what I encountered in the woods. I do a three-sixty and gawk at the hand-shaped bruises adorning my hips, breast, and ass cheeks. Then there’s the perfectly bruised representation of a hand around my throat. If I stare any longer, I'll get sick, so I quickly turn and step into the bathroom.
